The Lost Animorph
by Capramagus
Summary: She was with David when he found the cube, and got the morphing ability from it... now she has to figure out what in the world is going on! Rated T for some anatomy. NOTE: after several years, I've lost interest in this one. It's not going to be finished.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Animorphs, and all plot devices and characters thereof, belong to K.A. Applegate. I'm just writing this for the fun of it.**

My name is Ashley, and I must be the luckiest person alive. Except maybe that pregnant woman who had an 18-wheeler overturn on her car and walked away without so much as a scratch and no harm to her fetus. Considering the number of times in the past few months that I could have been killed, maimed, turned into a human puppet, or been stuck without color vision for the rest of my life, it's an absolute miracle I'm even here to reflect on how lucky I am.

Of course, I haven't always lived within inches of a painful and humiliating end. I was, and still am, a below-average student, who ignores politics (unless it's the subject of a song), enjoys Warcraft and Grand Theft Auto, and dyes her hair pink. Never was much of a social butterfly though. I'm friendly with plenty of the folks at school, but there's only one person I'd call a close friend: Phoebe.

Phoebe and I made the leap from lunch table-mates to buddies when I found out that she had a tarantula, and begged her to show me. That afternoon we spent hours at her house, playing with her exotic pets (of which she has about a dozen) and talking. Since then, I've gone over there nearly every day.

One evening, after leaving her house, I decided to go to a music store nearby and see if they had the latest System of a Down CD yet. The quickest way to walk was technically illegal: a shortcut through an abandoned construction site. Though I was too much of a chicken to go through after dark, the sun was still an hour or more from setting, and I was feeling reckless. So I went.

Picking through the rotting wood frames and odd shapes of concrete, their shadows lengthening in the evening light, the place was almost creepier than it would be in the dark. I decided to hurry.

A sudden noise made me jump out of my skin. I spun around in alarm, expecting a mugger or worse, but only heard loud, derisive laughter. A kid I recognized from school, David, emerged from behind a stack of cinder blocks, holding his sides.

"You should have seen the look on your face," he said, delighting in my embarrassment. Oddly enough, now that I knew it wasn't a mugger who had startled me, I wasn't relieved. "Hey," he said suddenly. "Want to see something cool?"

I was anxious to get out of this place before it got too dark, but I didn't want David to see that I was scared, especially after he'd laughed. I nodded, trying to look curious, and moved closer. He lowered his backpack from his shoulder, and took out what looked like a cube-shaped, blue paperweight.

"I found it under a pile of junk over there," he explained. "See the weird marks all over it? I bet it's like a valuable artifact."

"That does look pretty nice," I said. I was thinking it would look nice on my dresser, but that my mother would think it was an atrocious faux-pas of décor. "Can I see it?" I asked, holding out my hand. He hesitated a moment, then offered it up with a smirk.

"I guess I could let you hold it just this once. Anyone else, I'd refuse, but I figure I could easily take you down if you tried to steal it."

"Yeah, right."

As I held it in my left hand, and traced its edges with my right, it felt warm and almost alive. I placed my palm directly on top of it, and felt something like the tingle of static electricity. Before I could get a good look at it, though, David snatched it out of my hands and it disappeared into his bag once again.

"Well, I'd better be going. I wanna put this baby up on E-Bay. Wonder how much I'll get?"

I rolled my eyes and, trying not to seem in a hurry, started walking back the way I'd come. I suddenly wanted to be at home as soon as possible.

When I got home, I found a note on the kitchen counter saying that my parents had gone out for dinner. Excellent. Now I could play with the family computer without fear of being booted off.

Before I could make it to the computer, though, my mom's cat Mordicai appeared and started rubbing against my legs, begging for attention. I changed my mind and picked up the purring furball, cuddling him on the couch. The cat must have really liked me just then, because soon he was taking a nap in my lap. That had never happened before, and I couldn't help but be pleased looking at the cute little guy, and petting him.

That is, until I saw my hand sprouting black hair faster than bamboo.

I jumped up, ignoring Mordicai's annoyed hiss as he dropped to the floor, and stared at my hands. They weren't only growing soft, dark hairs, but my fingers were getting shorter, their tips turning black, and their nails growing thick and sharp and curved. I ran to the bathroom down the hall, struggled to lock the door with my misshapen hands, and tremblingly looked into the mirror.

My face was also getting hairy, and my normal hair was shrinking back into my scalp and darkening. I watched with horror as my forehead flattened back, and the lower half of my face started to bulge out. I tried to scream, but my tongue wasn't working right, and my teeth were changing too.

I didn't notice when my glasses slipped off my face and clattered to the floor; I was more worried that my head, and the rest of my body, was now rapidly shrinking. Soon I couldn't even see over the sink to look in the mirror, not that that bothered me- I couldn't stand to see myself anymore. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to curl up, even as I felt my bone structure shifting and re-aligning.

I don't know how long I stayed like that. But when I realized that I didn't feel anything moving around anymore- though for some reason the smell of cleaning products was nearly overwhelming- I opened my eyes.

What I saw- the floor and the bottom of the cabinet, slightly ajar to reveal the cleaning products I was smelling- did not surprise me. What did surprise me was how I saw it: it was as if the light had been switched off. The room was almost completely dark, and only vague shapes could be seen. I lifted my head. I tried to stand up, but lost my balance, and settled for crouching on all fours, holding my tail straight out.

Wait a minute. Tail?

Yes, I had a tail. I quickly ran an inventory of my body parts: ears, large and high on my head. Clawed feet. Fangs. A penis and scrotum.

Wait a minute. Scrotum?

Suddenly I realized what I was. I had somehow turned into Mordicai. Not only that, this version of him was apparently intact, still brazenly fertile. I only wondered about this for a moment before moving on to a more important question: will I ever turn back?

I tried to think back to the circumstances that lead up to the change, but my memory was a blur of confusion and terror. Damn my cowardice. I decided to just wing it.

As if it would help my concentration, I squeezed my eyes shut again, and strained to get bigger. After it was evident that wouldn't work, I started chanting (turn back, turn back, turn back) in my mind. That didn't work either.

I gathered my haunches and jumped up to the counter, congratulating myself on this super-human leap. I reared up and placed my hands- paws- on the mirror, and looked at the disturbing image of a cat's face where mine ought to be. Would I be stuck like this forever?

No. I decided to try again. This time, I started small: I looked down at my paws and willed my fingers to grow. I pictured them getting longer, the hair retracting, the claws shrinking back. I felt the change before I saw it, with my weird cat-vision: my hands emerging slowly from the cat's furry feet. Delighting in this small achievement, I decided to concentrate on my eyes next- I wanted to see in color again. Before I knew it, I could.

Thinking about one part at a time, I witnessed my human body materializing bit-by-bit, in a display worthy of any werewolf movie. The last thing I changed was the tail; I liked watching it whip around. I finally sucked it back into my body like a noodle of spaghetti.

It was then that I noticed two things: number one, that all my clothing was still in a heap on the floor, and number two, that both lenses of my glasses had been crushed in the struggle. When I heard my parents' car rumble up the driveway, I quickly got dressed and wondered what I'd tell them.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't think about the cat again until a few days later. I think I may have forgotten, or else imagined that I was imagining it. But I suddenly remembered when Phoebe and I were playing with her new kitten, Sasha. 

"I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a cat," she said.

"What?" I said, startled by the sudden memory of my body changing in disturbing ways.

"Or any other kind of animal, for that matter. Do you realize how limited humans' view of the world is? There are sounds we don't hear, but dogs and cat's can. There are colors that insects and reptiles see, that we can't. Getting a glimpse through the eyes of an animal would give you a completely different perception of reality," she mused.

I tried to wrap my mind around the idea of a completely new color, and failed. I couldn't visualize anything other than the colors I already knew about. That bothered me.

"Should you be leaving soon? When's your appointment?"

"What?"

"Your eye appointment. Didn't you say you need to get new glasses?"

"Oh yeah." I looked at my watch. "Yeah, I should be going. I'm kind of late."

"Want to ask my mom to give you a ride?"

"No." I stood up and walked toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I thought about the cat all throughout the examination, and on the way home. When I was within a few blocks of the house, I broke into a run, impatient to find out if I could do it again.

Safe in the locked bathroom, I stripped off my clothing and started to visualize myself turning back into the cat. When I started to shrink, I wasn't terrified this time; I was excited. I felt a rush as I reshaped my body, and purred with self-satisfaction when the change was complete.

Suddenly, I wondered if I could change into another animal. A sparrow came to mind. Could I turn into a bird? I tried to picture my black fur turning into feathers, my paws into talons…

After several minutes, I gave up. It wasn't working. Once more I thought back to when I first turned into the cat, and something occurred to me: maybe I had to start as myself. It made sense, to use my own body as a starting point for all other forms. My transformation back to my human form was quicker this time, perhaps because I'd had a bit of practice.

Once again de-haired, I closed my eyes and imagined a bird. That didn't work either. I thought back again.

I was petting Mordicai the first time I started changing. Maybe I had to be in contact with an animal before I could become it. But how could I get ahold of another animal? It was too late to go back to Phoebe's house and play with her pets- by the time I'd get there, she'd be in bed, and I didn't want to wait until tomorrow.

I thought about this as I got dressed and went out to the living room. I sat in the bay window and looked wistfully at a flock of sparrows cavorting in the lawn. Mordicai was watching them, too, probably wanting to hunt. It's hard being an indoor cat, I thought.

Suddenly, I understood. Maybe Mordicai couldn't hunt the sparrows, but I could. I ran back to the bathroom, stopping briefly to open the back door slightly so I could get out without turning the knob. In a minute I was back in cat form, and streaking out to get myself that bird I wanted to be.

Unfortunately, predators coming toward them at full speed tend to unnerve birds. I was barely out the door when the flock took off, leaving me disappointed on the ground. I'd never be able to catch a bird, even with a cat's teeth and claws, if I was acting like a clumsy, bumbling human. I slinked into the neighbor's leafy garden shrubs and waited for the birds to come back.

Soon, the yard was full of them again. Listening to their twittering, I felt tension rising in my mind- no, it was the cat's mind. Yes, my own consciousness was there, but there was another awareness, the cat's instincts. I let that other mind take over; it would probably know more about hunting than I would.

I crouched behind my screen of foliage, perfectly still, listening and watching for the perfect opportunity. When at last I found a possible quarry and felt ready to pounce, my paw started to twitch forward.

Then I stopped.

Across the yard, browsing among the smaller birds, was a much bigger one- a crow. Prey that size would be so much more satisfying, the cat's mind thought. I started looking for the best way to target it.

So slowly that my human mind could barely feel it, my cat body inched around downwind of the crow. I was almost there, every muscle tense, every sense alert to the slightest change that could affect this hunt. I felt the excitement mount as I bunched up my haunches for the pounce.

And I pounced! Yes! The bird flapped and fluttered under my grip. Almost bursting with the triumph, I began to clench my teeth around its neck, going in for the kill…

Wait! What was I doing? I couldn't kill a bird. What was I thinking?

It must be the cat's instincts taking over. My human mind would have to stay in control now. I can't believe I almost killed a poor, beautiful bird.

Or didn't I? It wasn't moving anymore, just hanging limply from my mouth. Maybe it was just stunned? I thought I could barely feel a pulse, but what if it was my imagination? How could I live with myself?

Please be alive, bird, I thought. I turned back to the house and gingerly carried the animal back up the steps to the door.

It was closed. I couldn't get in.

Great. I can't turn human here; I'd be naked in broad daylight. There must be another way in. I walked around the house, inspecting every window within reach of the ground. Nothing.

Coming around to the back, I noticed the garage. The door was slid up a few inches- was it enough for a cat to squeeze through? I could try. I would have to hurry, though; my mother was due home from work soon. I gently laid the crow's limp body on the concrete just outside the door- sending another hopeful thought that it wouldn't be dead- and lowered my body as close to the ground as it would go, inching forward.

It was a tight fit, and of course I wasn't strong enough to push the door up further, but I got in and promptly started focusing on getting back to my normal body. Once I had hands, I reached for the pile of paint tarps stuffed in a shelf in the back of the garage, and wrapped it around myself. Not a dignified outfit, but better than total nudity.

I opened the garage door the rest of the way, and bent to carefully pick up the crow. When I saw its legs and wings twitching, I breathed a sigh of relief, and rushed back into the house. I didn't know how to help the little guy, but I knew someone who did.

There's a girl in my class who's even more of an animal lover than Phoebe, though she probably can't help it, seeing as both of her parents are veterinarians. Her father runs a sort of a rehab center for wild animals, like the one I was now responsible for. I looked it up in the phone book, and called him.

I'd just hung up the phone when my mother opened the door. I turned and was about to smile, but the look on her face stopped me. She didn't look angry, more like… dumbfounded.

"Ashley… why are you wearing a tarp?"

I looked down. "Oh, yeah." I'd forgotten. "I was just… uh…?" Could I tell the truth? I hadn't quite decided whether to keep my latest adventures a secret yet. But even if I had to lie, how could I possibly think of a story to explain why I was standing in the kitchen making phone calls while wearing nothing but a plastic, paint-spattered tarp?

I was spared having to answer for now. When she saw the large black bird lying on the counter next to me, she was totally distracted. "What's that dead bird doing here!"

"It's not dead!" I said, surprised at my own defensive tone. "I mean, I'm gonna try to get it some help. I'm taking it to the animal rehab center."

"You mean the one that's run by that nice black man and his daughter?"

"Yes." I was used to her blunt references to minority groups.

"That's a good idea. Come on, I'll drive you." She grabbed her keys off the table and turned toward the door.

"Wait! I need to… change," I said, and blushed.

She seemed to remember that I was wearing a tarp. She looked like she was about to ask a question, but stopped and nodded. I ran back to the bathroom and dressed as quickly as I could. I had a feeling this wasn't the last time I'd find it hard to explain myself.


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't occur to me to try turning into the crow until the next day at school, when Ms. Kearst and I had a rare confrontation. It started when I was listening to my MP3 player in her class and didn't hear her calling on me until she was practically yelling. 

"Ashley!"

I just about jumped out of my skin at the sound. She was leaning menacingly over my desk.

"Take off those headphones," she ordered. "I shouldn't be able to hear them. I could hear them all the way from my desk."

I sheepishly pulled the little earplugs out of my ears. She was right; the music was too loud. I usually played it more softly, and Ms. Kearst didn't seem to mind as long as I always did the homework. Either that, or she hadn't noticed. It's a rather small machine.

"I'll take that," she said, picking my MP3 player up off the desk.

"No!" I protested. "You can't do that! Do you know how much those things cost?"

"Yes, I can, and yes, I do. You'll get it back at the end of the year, I promise."

I was about to argue again, but she'd already gone on with the lesson. I leaned over to the kid sitting next to me and whispered, "can she do that?"

"I think she can," he answered.

Normally, I like Ms. Kearst. She's one of the more laid-back teachers: slower to enforce the dress code, quicker to assign extra credit, more accepting of a little mirth. And I had been wrong this time, even if I didn't want to admit it out loud. But I hated the prospect of spending the rest of the year without my MP3 player, my baby, my precious deliverer of blessed noise to my brain.

I had to get it back, somehow. I spent the last few classes forming a plan.

When school let out, I met up with Phoebe and told her I wouldn't be going to her house today.

"What? Why?"

"I just have something to do."

"What are you going to do?" she asked. She seemed vaguely suspicious, which didn't seem like her.

"It's nothing important."

"Then you shouldn't mind telling me, just to make me feel like you're not keeping secrets."

Damn. I hate that trick. "All right. Ms. Kearst took my MP3 player, and I'm gonna try to get it back."

"You mean you're going to talk to her and negotiate?"

The suggestion threw me off for a minute. Then I considered, and decided no. "That wouldn't work. I'm fairly certain she's not giving it back on my terms."

Phoebe raised one eyebrow. "Well, if you're convinced, there's nothing I can do to stop you. But I'll wait for you; after you're done, we'll go to my place, okay?"

"Okay."

I set off at a jog around the school, to a place that was surrounded on most sides by either buildings or fences. It was a frequent haunt for the smokers in the school, because of its seclusion- and I chose it for the same reason. I took off my jacket and crouched under it, and thought about the crow.

Of course, I knew there was a chance it wouldn't work. I hadn't tested the crow yet, and didn't know if I could do more than one animal. When I saw my nose growing out and hardening in front of my face, and my arms growing long, black feathers, I felt relief and pleasure. After I got over the initial gut reaction of shock and fear, of course. I could do it! Now I knew that if I could touch an animal, I could turn into it. I was slowly re-learning the laws of what I could and couldn't do, though I still didn't know how or why.

I continued to change and shrink until I got lost in a pile of my own clothes, and had to struggle and flutter to find my way out. I thought I heard a tearing sound as one of my toes, or talons, caught on a fold of fabric, but I didn't want to stick around. I flapped my arms- wings, rather- and soon was in the air.

It was so natural to the bird's brain that I was already over the fence and high in the air before I realized it. I looked down at the quickly shrinking landscape below, and shrieked with delight mingled with fear.

(WHAAAA HOOOO!) I shouted in my mind, gaining speed and altitude with every twitch of the bird's mind. This was better than a video game. More spectacular than the OmniMax Theater. A bigger rush than hunting as a cat, and certainly more fun than anything a human can do. I was flying! I wheeled and turned in the air, dizzy with the way the world seemed to spin under me.

Far below, I could see a girl with dark hair waiting in front of the school. She looked up at me. It was Phoebe! I started to go into a dive, about to tell her all about flying, and how cool it was.

Then I stopped. Did I really want to tell her? She's my best friend. I've never had a secret from her before. But I didn't even know what had caused this change in me; maybe I shouldn't talk about it until I knew more. But if I didn't tell anyone, or ask anyone, how could I find out?

Then I remembered my MP3 player. Part of me wanted to forget it; here was a much more stimulating source of entertainment, that didn't require batteries. But another part of me couldn't give up once I'd committed to something, and I didn't want to give up on this project just because I got a little distracted. I turned again, and tried to look for Ms. Kearst's classroom window.

I found I couldn't see through the glass, but I found what looked like the right place. I landed on the window sill and pondered my next move.

Anyone who skips classes regularly knows how to open the school building's windows from the outside, though the ones on upper floors generally don't get that kind of attention. It took a few minutes to figure out how to compensate for my lack of hands, and any significant body weight, but after a while I managed to open it up a crack and hop inside.

The room was empty, but the light was on and the door open; wherever Ms. Kearst was, she would probably be back soon to lock the room. I had to hurry. I fluttered over to the desk and started searching.

Before I could make any progress, though, I heard the door creek and instinctively jumped into the air. Ms Kearst was back, and was staring at me in surprise and… hate? Did she hate birds?

"Andalite!" she yelled, and before I could think to wonder what that meant, she pulled out what looked like a gun. All my vindictiveness fled, and I started flying in blind terror. She was pointing the weapon at me, or trying to, but seemed hesitant to fire it.

I caught sight of the window, still slightly open, and regained just enough lucidity to aim for it. Unfortunately, Ms. Kearst saw where I was going, and slammed it shut before I could get there. Pulling up short, I turned and headed out the door instead.

Flapping hard through the windless hallway, with an enraged teacher in close pursuit, did not prove to be as fun as soaring freely in the fresh air. Apparently it's hard to fly indoors, though at least I seemed to stay ahead of Ms. Kearst.

I rocketed down the hallway, and around every corner and twist, until I couldn't remember what part of the building I was in. My wings were exhausted. I felt myself slowing down, and at the same time heard running footsteps behind me. She was catching up, and I didn't know what would happen if she got me.

Just as I was about to give up and take my chances with her, I felt a slight movement in the air that made me feel better somehow. I looked up and saw light, streaming in through an open door, and smelled fresh air. A man in a uniform was holding the door open for me.

With a new lift of energy I zoomed through the door and then climbed as fast as I could up into the sky. Below, I could hear Ms. Kearst swearing.

"That was nice of you, Miss, helping that bird out. I wonder how it got inside," I heard the man say. I didn't wait to hear her reply.

I flew in lazy circles for a while, resting my tired wings and going over in my mind everything that had just happened. What was with her? A normal person, upon finding a wild bird inside, might try to help it get out. At worst, they might be afraid of getting bitten or something. But to chase it down with a vengeance? And what was that word she said? Ana-something. Maybe I'd misheard.

I descended back to my hiding place, where my clothes were still in a crumpled pile in the corner. I looked around the area obsessively before landing, to make sure nobody would have even a partial, fleeting view of me while I changed back to my human body and got dressed.

When I finally sprinted back to the front of the building, Phoebe was still waiting, and looking very impatient. When I got within earshot, she said, "What took you so long? I was starting to get worried."

"I had a brush with security," I said, feeling bad for not telling her the truth. "I didn't end up getting it. Can we not talk about it right now?"

"What happened to your shirt?" she said, pointing wide-eyed at a large tear down the front of my tee. I wondered for a moment why I hadn't noticed it while dressing, and started to zip up my jacket to hide it.

"Must have gotten caught on something."

As we walked away together, I continued to think about what I had seen and heard. I came to the conclusion that Ms. Kearst's behavior had some connection to my new shape shifting ability, and I had to find the explanation for both. The way to do that, I thought, was to spy on Ms. Kearst.


	4. Chapter 4

That evening, I made a point of handling as many of Phoebe's pets as I could, including all three cats, the cocker spaniel, a black rat, a rabbit, and one of my favorites, the mynah bird. Not as big as the crow, but sleeker, with some bright yellow accents and an awesome mimicking talent, that bird has been Phoebe's pride and joy since she got him last year. 

"I don't think I'll be coming here tomorrow," I told her before I left.

"Where are you going?"

What's with all these questions? I found myself thinking. "I'm just going to go home. I have a lot of homework I need to catch up on." Again I felt guilty for not telling her the truth. How long could I keep this up? Phoebe knows me too well.

"You could do that here. I could help you if you want."

"I know, I just think it's best for me to go home for this."

"All right."

She didn't question any more. I felt worse than ever when I left her, but I kept reminding myself about Ms. Kearst and the mystery I had to solve.

The next morning I packed a full change of clothes into a brown paper bag and stowed it in the back of the garage; I didn't want a repeat of the tarp incident. I went to all my classes, but my head was full of my plans, and my fears about getting caught, or worse.

I was only distracted from my racing thoughts once, when, during study hall, I heard whispers in the next row over and caught the name "David." I leaned over to the group of huddled gossipers and asked, "what about David?"

"He got abducted," one girl said.

"We don't know that for sure," corrected another. "He just disappeared a few days ago. His whole family, right out of their house."

"I want to know why it wasn't on the news," a third girl pointed out. "I mean, I asked a policeman about it, and he said he wasn't allowed to say anything. He wouldn't even acknowledge that it happened. I think the government might be trying to hide it."

"I heard that his dad's a spy. Maybe they had to go undercover."

"Or maybe they're runaway criminals."

"No way. I have a much better theory."

"Oh really? How do you top runaway criminals?"

The girl with the theory beckoned us closer, and lowered her voice. "Just before he disappeared, David was showing off this thing he found.

"Can you be more specific?"

I'd already guessed what "thing" she was referring to.

"He thought it might be like an old artifact, like from the Indians who used to live around here, y'know? But it looked too modern to me. More like something out of 'Star Trek.'"

"Yeah, or 'Andromeda.'"

"You know the one? It was like a little blue box thing, and it had all these symbols and stuff on it. Well, my dad's an archeologist, and he's never seen anything like it, so I don't think it's an artifact. And it's not anything from modern culture, or we'd have heard of it, right?"

There were tentative nods around the group. I suspected nobody really agreed, but wanted to hear what she had to say.

"So I thought, if it's not an artifact, and it's not from modern human culture, what else could it be?" She waited a few seconds, one eyebrow raised. "Oh, come on. Aliens! It must have come from outer space."

There were groans of disbelief. The study hall teacher shushed, and we lowered our voices.

"You can't possibly think that's true," someone said.

"Well, it could be," I said. "I mean, you can't possibly believe that in all the universe there's only one planet capable of producing blue glass paperweights, can you?"

The conspiracy theorist smiled. "So, I figure, that blue box thing might have come from a crashed alien spaceship, and when Dave found it, the government wanted to make sure to hush it up. So they came and packed the whole family off to Zone 91."

The teacher shushed us again, and this time we fell silent, soaking in this new information.

When the last bell rang, I felt like I was walking to the gallows. I waited until most of the other students had left the campus, and then sneaked back to the hiding place I'd gone to the day before. Again I took off my jacket, hid underneath it, and changed into the crow.

This time, I didn't go anywhere near Ms. Kearst's window. I just circled the school building, trying to act like a normal bird, waiting for her to come out. When she did, I watched her walk to her car and drive away, and then followed.

It was difficult to keep up with the car without looking like I was mirroring its every movement; I tried flying from tree to tree, zigzagging back and forth across the street, even letting it get ahead of me until I could barely see it before zooming back up and ahead. I was so busy with my aerial acrobatics that several times I almost forgot which car was hers.

Finally, she parked in a side street in a part of town I'd never been in. It didn't look like a very good neighborhood, and I wondered if that was where she lived. She didn't seem like the type.

She seemed to be taking a while getting out of the car, like she was waiting for someone or just thinking, and I didn't want to risk her recognizing me in the crow's body, so I landed and tried to look for a hiding place. The only possible option I could see was a garbage dumpster in an alley across the street, so I held my breath and hopped in.

The smell was awful, and when my feathers retracted and bared my tender skin, I cringed to think what sorts of trash might be in this place. I wasted no time before continuing to change directly to Mordicai, and leaping out of that dark, foul hole.

I looked to see that Ms. Kearst was still in her car, and then sat down and started washing; the cat's mind was even more averse to the filthy smell than I was. Almost immediately, Ms. Kearst got out of the car and started walking straight towards me.

I kept washing, though suddenly alert to every sound and movement she made- her shoes tapping dully on the pavement, her arms swinging self-consciously, her eyes looking all around. She eyed me for a few seconds, but then seemed to decide that I was just a harmless ally cat, and walked past. When her back was to me, I turned to watch under the pretext of washing my behind.

She stood in front of a chipped, metal door, and opened a small panel next to it. Inside was a circle of small holes, like a speaker, and she bent slightly to speak into it.

"I'm here for my two-forty appointment," she said. Two-forty? That was almost an hour ago.

But the door clicked and swung open slightly. My sensitive cat nose caught a whiff of a vile, alien smell, faint but distinct and my acute ears picked up the faraway sound of- oh my god- a scream of terror and despair. Ms. Kearst didn't seem to notice, and quickly went inside, slamming the door behind her.


End file.
